Ruined
by JacquiDee
Summary: "When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am." -Iris
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: *cough cough* Hi guys. Um so I'm a little new at this type of writing. I write Criminal Minds fanfiction, but I've been a wrestling fan as long as I can remember and I just really miss the nice CM Punk and I totally shipped him and AJ. Feedback and reviews would be much appreciated so I know whether to continue this or take it off. Happy Reading!**

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**AJ**

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April Mendez, AJ, smiled brightly as two little girls, who couldn't be older than 10, approached her shyly in the airport. Most of the time, if she traveled alone, she could get away without being recognized, but, once in a while, a few of the young fans (or some really creepy older ones) could point out who she was. She had to sign autographs, of course, but she figured it was better than traveling with the rest of the roster since superstars like John and Randy and Punk usually didn't get away without being recognized.

"Ms. Lee?" the smaller girl asked timidly, ducking her head. April crouched down to her eye level and tilted her head slightly.

"Yes?" she answered gently, trying not to scare her. As a lifelong WWE fan herself, she knew how hard it was to go up and ask someone that larger-than-life for an autograph. For her, it had been Trish. Now, much to her embarrassment and disbelief, it was her. The little girl ducked behind her older sister. The older girl swallowed before bravely looking up at her.

"Can we have your autograph?" she asked in a small but strong voice, holding out a piece of paper and a pen. From around her shoulder appeared another piece of paper and a set of brown eyes watching her.

"Of course!" she beamed, taking the pen and both pieces of paper. "Who am I writing this to?"

"My name is Summer," the older one chirped, holding her little hands behind her back.

"Summer, keep on lightin' it up," AJ said out loud as she scribbled a message. She signed with a flourish and handed it back. The child's eyes lit up and she raced back to her parents, leaving the smaller, more frightened little girl behind. AJ smiled and softened her voice. "And you sweetheart?"

"I'm April," the little girl whispered shyly. AJ paused and took a moment to write a very special message.

"Here you go April. Can I let you in on a little secret?" she asked, handing back the paper. Little April nodded her head, eyes wide. "The A in AJ stands for April too." Little April squealed and wrapped her arms around AJ's neck.

"Thank you Miss Lee!" she squeaked as she too ran back to her parents. The little girl was talking excitedly and, as her parents looked up in gratitude, AJ simply smiled and waved as she stood back up. She grabbed her luggage and nestled into a chair, content on sitting in a waiting area. The other stars on the roster weren't as comfortable, but that was because they were bigger names recognized far more often. She pulled a book out of her carry on (she was far more intelligent than people gave her credit for), and was able to get a good chunk into her book before she heard her name again. Her real name.

"April Mendez?" Her muscles tensed slightly but she forced herself to remain calm. It was a man's voice calling her, one that she remembered very well from all the times it had screamed at her. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes over her book. Standing not two feet from her was the only thing that still made her wake up screaming for help in her sleep. She swallowed roughly.

"Derek," she greeted politely. She returned her eyes to her book but knew that he wouldn't let it go at that.

"After I spent two years in you all I get is a 'Derek'?" he demanded with the far too familiar edge to his voice. She weighed her options in her head. She could mention that those two years had been the most traumatic of her life and ask him if he was proud of himself because her scars hadn't faded yet and she still had trouble occasionally from the time he broke her elbow and wouldn't let her get it checked out. She could coldly ask how he recognized her with make up on and no bruises or cuts on her face. She also knew that if she said any of that out loud, he would cause a scene and probably drag her out to his car. So she closed her book and laid it carefully on her carry-on bag and smiled very politely up at him.

"What brings you to Dallas?" she asked carefully. When they had been together, they'd had a house in Charlotte. She couldn't think of anything that would bring him this far from North Carolina and fervently prayed that she wouldn't have to hire a bodyguard. The smile that had made her fall in love flashed on his face.

"Thanks for asking. I wish I could say I was here on better terms. Mom just passed," he said quietly. AJ felt a slight pang. As much as she hated her abusive ex, his mother had been a sweet woman who hadn't had the courage to leave when she had been put in the same spot.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, meaning it with all her heart. He nodded, taking a seat across the aisle, much to her discomfort. He reached over and laid a hand on her knee. She stiffened.

"What brings you out here? Do you have any time to catch up?" he questioned, rubbing circles on her knee.

"My flight leaves soon, I don't have much time," she replied, skillfully dodging the first half of his question. She truly didn't understand the stupidity it took to not know that she was a WWE Diva now but she appreciated the privacy that the constant traveling afforded her. His eyes hardened familiarly and she felt the old rush of wondering what she did wrong. He snatched his hand back and she felt a short lived measure of relief until he grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.

"We are going to go eat lunch. We are going to catch up. Then we are going to go back to my place," he growled, tightening his grip.

"Derek, let go of me," she asked calmly. He had never hurt her in public, but the only thing keeping her calm was knowing that he wouldn't get the chance to hurt her in private.

"No," he smirked, beginning to walk. She planted her heels but, to her horror, she began inching in his direction.

"Derek," she growled, her voice low and deadly in something she could only describe as her stage voice. He paused and looked at her, surprised at the venom in her voice. "Let go of me. Or I'll do what I didn't have the guts to do all those years ago and scream. I'll scream and scream and scream." The old smirk crawled across his face.

"No you won't," he laughed as he resumed walking. She sucked in a breath and let out a piercing scream. He froze and whirled around. She screamed again and again and people were turning and staring at her, but more importantly, him. Eyes ablaze, he whirled around. She stopped screaming and smiled.

"Now let me go," she demanded. He tightened his grip and she opened her mouth again.

"Ma'am is there a problem?" a security guard intervened, eyes zeroing in on Derek's hand on her arm.

"Yes actually. This man is abducting me. I have a flight to catch and he is dragging me away," she gasped, working her new found acting skills into her voice.

"I'm sorry sir. There's been a misunderstanding. My wife is confused," Derek said smoothly. The security guard looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not. I'm not your wife. I don't know you!" she panicked, struggling against his grip.

"You bitch!" he spat, shoving her away. She felt relief course through her until the back of his hand connected with her face. Her cheek exploded in pain and her eyes filled with tears. The security guard flat out tackled Derek, shouting for help. Three more rushed to the scene and one very worried woman rushed to her side.

"Miss, are you okay?" she questioned, placing hands on AJ's arms. One hand was clutching her burning cheek and she felt as if her eye was about to explode.

"Flight 147 to San Diego now boarding," came over the intercom.

"No, I'm alright. My plane is boarding," she pushed out, forcing a smile. The woman's worried eyes followed her back to her chair. AJ bent to scoop up her carry-on and grab her luggage. She could feel the eyes on her back, so different from the eyes that were usually on her every Monday, as she walked to the entrance. She handed over her first class ticket and struggled to disregard the flight attendant's worried eyes as she was escorted to her seat. She sighed as she was lead to her seat, noticing that first class was mostly empty.

"Can I get you anything?" asked the attendant politely.

"A bag of ice would be nice please," she requested as she dug around in her bag for her headphones and IPod.

"Right away," chirped the attendant as she scurried off. AJ kept her face neutral until after the attendant returned with ice and disappeared again. Only after she had the compressor pressed to her face did she allow the tears to leak over. She wasn't crying because her feelings were hurt. She had no doubt that Dallas security would handle Derek and he didn't know where she was going anyway. She wasn't particularly crying because of the pain, though it did hurt enough to make her eyes tear, but she had felt worse in the ring. She cried because of the memories that the slap had brought back. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow, dozing slightly as she tried to forget.

She awoke two hours late to the sounds of landing and she felt disgusting. Her cheek was swollen (she could feel the familiar tightening) and the skin under her eyes felt sticky from her dried tears. She grabbed her things and scuttled off the plane. A driver with her name on his sign drew her attention and she made her way to him. His eyes widened, but the look on her face kept him from asking. The drive to the stadium was a blur to her; she only knew that she was in San Diego and going to the stadium because Smackdown was being filmed tonight.

"Please take my things to the hotel" she requested, wincing at her voice. It was rusted and tired and she cleared her throat before repeating her request. The driver nodded and got back in the car. She carried only her bag with her gear in it as she made her way through the halls. She turned a corner and froze. At the end on the hall was her on-screen enemy but real life best friend CM Punk. She shuddered to think what he would do to see her now and, as she was debating what to do, he turned.

"April!" he called, a smile lighting up his face. Panicking, she located her dressing room and ducked in. She turned the lock and threw her bag on the couch. She rushed to a mirror and winced. The entire left side of her face was swollen and bruising and on her arm were bruises in the shape of Derek's fingers.

"April!" Punk called from the other side of the door. He knocked. "April!" he yelled, concern lacing his voice. "Open the door!" She made her way to the door and leaned her head against the cool wood, laying her small hand on the door knob.

"I can't," she whispered. There was no noise on the other side of the door.

"Why not?" he whispered back, worry clear in his voice.

"You don't want to see me right now."

"April, don't be stupid. I always want to see you. Come on, open up," he chuckled, jiggling the handle. She paused, about to tell him to go away when he spoke again. His voice was soft and gentle, so unlike his character whispered through the door. "April. Please." She felt the tears building again and a lump in her throat formed.

"Okay," she mumbled, unlocking the door. Before he opened the door, she turned around and reached up to hold her arm. "Come in," she whispered. She felt the cool air from the hallway flow in and heard the click on the door as it closed. He came up behind her and gently laid his hands on her arms.

"What's wrong precious?" he asked, trying to turn her around.

"Back up please. Then I'll show you." He sounded confused when he said okay and she felt his lips in her hair. The warmth from his tattooed hands left her and she took a deep breath. She turned slowly and watched his face carefully. He stared at her like he wasn't sure was he was looking at. She saw his trademark fury ignite in his eyes – they really do base your character loosely on your personality. His hands, covered with tape, clenched and he swore loudly before turning and ramming his fist into the wall. It broke where his hand connected and she flinched at the loud sound. When he refocused his gaze on her (he had to see the terror in her face), the fire immediately disappeared and his face softened. He slowly made his way towards her. His anger might make her jump but she was never afraid of him. He opened his arms and she walked into him, sobbing into his yellow "GTS" shirt. His hands stroked her hair and she clung to him.

"Shhh, sweetheart. I'm here," he soothed. When her tears subsided, she pulled back. He very carefully rubbed his thumb under her eyes and placed his hands on her shoulder. "Who did this?" he asked

"It's not a big deal. It won't happen again," she hiccupped. He may have been her best friend, and she knew he'd never lay a hand on her to cause her pain, but she knew when not to push him. Which is why she knew she was in trouble when he spoke again. There was venom in his words and no room for arguments as he asked her one more time.

"Who. Did. This?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! The feedback for the last chapter just made my day. Thank you so much for your support. Hope this satisfies the crowd! Reviews are MUCH appreciated. Happy reading!**

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**CM Punk**

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He was strangely anxious as he talked to John. He knew that she liked to fly alone to avoid the publicity and she wasn't the only one who did it – Justin and Layla liked to avoid the crowds sometimes too. For him, and other big names like John and Randy, flying alone didn't really make a difference because people just knew who you were. In fact, he preferred flying with the guys to minimize the chance of some psycho coming up and creeping on him. He knew fans like that were out there which was why he worried so much about AJ flying alone. She was a hell of an in ring competitor, even without her script, but she was so small that sometimes her fighting ability didn't matter. WWE had just landed in San Diego about an hour ago, but they were all at the stadium warming up for Smackdown. She was never more than maybe 45 minutes behind them. He couldn't help but worry about her. Despite their on screen rivalry, the two were best friends and he felt that it was his job to look after her.

"Punk," John said again, a smile in his voice. The Straight Edge Superstar jerked his head towards the Cenation leader trying to remember what it was he had been asked.

"Yeah?" he said instead.

"Bro, quit worrying about AJ. She'll be here," he joked. Punk rolled his eyes.

"I know." Pause. "She's never been this late before."

"It's okay man. She's right there," his friend (but on screen worst enemy) reassured him, pointing down the hallway that Punk had his back to. He whirled around, immediately focusing on her small frame. She seemed upset and he frowned. "I'll talk to you later," John said, chuckling to himself and walking off. CM Punk took a moment to admire her. Her tiny body was standing straight up (years of ballet had done that to her) and her long chocolate brown hair was hanging loosely around her face. She seemed on edge and he hoped she'd tell him why.

"April!" he called, a smile forming on his face. She jerked her eyes up from the fringe on her gray one shoulder belly shirt (damn, he loved it when she wore those) and looked terrified. The smile died on his face as she turned and ducked into her dressing room. He nervously slid his hands into his front pockets and made his way down the hall. "April!" he called, knocking on her door. He heard her shuffling around but nothing happened. "April!" he tried again. His concern was leaking into his voice. "Open the door!" he said, louder, knocking harder on her door. There was a beat of silence and then her small voice floated out.

"I can't," she whispered. She sounded so small and frail that it took all of his power to not break down the door right there.

"Why not?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm to keep from scaring her. There was another pause.

"You don't want to see me right now," she finally said quietly. He thought back on the past few weeks, trying to think of what he had done to upset her. He couldn't come up with anything, and wondered who he would have to punch in the face for hurting her feelings. He tried to open the door again.

"April, don't be stupid, I always want to see you," he chuckled, working to remain lighthearted. She was his best friend in the world. He hadn't known her as long as he'd known Colt, but they fit so well together. She knew how to calm him down (one of the few people, maybe the only person, who was able to do that) and he always knew when something was wrong with her. He could practically hear the words coming next (something along the lines of "go away") and he said something that always, always broke down her walls. "April. Please." He heard her sigh as she unlocked the door. She didn't open it and he paused.

"Okay," she mumbled. He heard some more shuffling and then she spoke again. "Come in," she whispered. He opened the door and stepped inside her room. He closed the door and turned, expecting her to be looking at him. She was facing away, her head down, clutching her arm. He walked quietly towards her and laid his hands on her biceps. Her muscles tensed momentarily before relaxing under his familiar touch. He rested his chin on the top of her head and gently rubbed her arms.

"What's wrong precious?" he murmured into her hair, trying to soothe her. She sniffled, then shrugged him off.

"Back up please. Then I'll show you," she requested, wriggling away from him. He pressed his lips gently into her hair and then backed away. She took a deep breath and turned around. He stared at her face. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, just disjointed thoughts, and then it all came in a rush. Her beautiful caramel skin was turning purple and her cheek was swollen so bad it was starting push into her lip. Her mascara was smeared all the way down her face from crying and there was a small cut under her left eye. She took her hand away from her arm, revealing four long, dark bruises. He stared at her arm, then realized what he was seeing. They were in the shape of fingers. And they were much too big to be from a woman. He felt the familiar burn in his muscles and he clenched his hands unconsciously. He turned and slammed his taped fist into the wall. It buckled and the plaster fell into itself. He whirled around and noticed her terrified expression. He immediately pushed his anger down and reached out to her. Her lip trembled and she rushed into his embrace. He felt her tears leak through his shirt and he couldn't tell which was stronger: his urge to comfort her or his urge to go out and beat the bastard who had dared to lay a finger on her. His arms wrapped around her waist and he was rubbing circles on her back.

"Shhh, sweetheart, I'm here," he crooned, stroking her hair. At his words, her shaking stopped and she calmed down. She took a deep breath and unfolded her hands from under her and she pulled away from his chest. He pushed down the pang of longing to press her against his body again – she needed him more than he needed her love right now. He laid his hands very gently on her shoulders, refusing to let her escape his question.

"Who did this?" he asked, trying to keep from growling. Her eyes, glued to his, dropped to the floor and she twisted her hands nervously.

"It's not a big deal. It won't happen again," she mumbled, hiccupping and she tried to wiggle away from him. He didn't want to scare her but he was done. Whoever had touched his girl would not get away with it. The thought brought him up short, but he didn't have time to think about his feelings. He very carefully enunciated his words and let the venom he usually saved for his character creep into his voice. He wasn't trying to scare HER and she knew that HE would NEVER hurt her, but he wasn't playing games. They joked around a lot, but he wasn't one to be pushed (he had a very short fuse and he could explode even at her) and she knew better than to push him.

"Who. Did. This?"

Her lip began trembling again and she twisted away from him, using her speed to duck under his grip and move to the chaise pushed up against the side wall. She sank down on the cushions and folder her hands neatly in her lap. A sigh that carried more weight than it should slid out of her. When she looked up, he felt young under the matureness in her gaze. She patted the space next to her. He felt restless, but moved to take the spot next to her anyway. He carefully cradled her hand in his and looked at her softly, waiting for her to speak.

"An ex. I ran into him at the airport. We parted on bad terms and I don't think he ever got over me leaving him. He wanted me to go with him to catch up. I wouldn't have gone with him even if my plane hadn't been leaving. He got annoyed I guess and hit me. Security got him and I put ice on my cheek," she sounded frustrated as she talked, "but then it swelled up anyway." She turned to him with worried eyes. "Do you think it will go away by Monday?" He carefully cupped her other cheek, lightly stroking from the corner of her eye to her jaw.

"I'm going to find him," he said instead. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, making her hair bounce against his arm.

"Please just leave it alone. It's okay, he doesn't know where I'm at anyway," he had been shaking his head, but he had a weakness too. She laid one hand over his taped ones and one cupping his cheek. "Please Punk. Please." He didn't know how she did it, but she had a way of looking _into_ him.

"I can't promise you anything," he finally breathed, running a hand through his hair. She smiled at him anyway.

"That's good enough for me." A knock on the door interrupted what he was about to say.

"Punk?" John called.

"Yeah?" he shouted back.

"Come on man. They're filming your segment right before the show starts," came through the door.

"Thanks for the heads up!" he yelled back. AJ sighed almost inaudibly, but he was too attuned to her not to notice. He rubbed circles into her palm, trying to reassure her.

"I'll come by as soon as they let me go. What room are you in?" he asked, skimming the back of her hand (when had he started holding her hand?) against his cheekbone. She smiled again, in more of a relaxed way. She knew that he would find out if she didn't tell him.

"143 C," she said, standing up. She was tiny, but she pulled him up with her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Don't worry sunshine. I'll take care of you," he whispered. She squeezed back, then pulled away. As he opened the door, she stood on her tip toes and pecked his cheek.

"I know," she murmured, smiling as she closed the door on him.

Filming took forever. He usually enjoyed his time on set with his extended family, but tonight he was just antsy. As soon as they gave him the okay, he was out of there, not even answering Randy when he invited him out. He only calmed down when he was in the elevator on the way up to her room. He paused outside the door, waiting to knock. He raised his hand, and then froze. Her strangled cry floated through the door, and he didn't stop to think before he was kicking her door in.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Sorry for the slight delay. This chapter took a bit more though than the previous. As I've never been abused as bad as the AJ in this story, I had to come up with a bit of imagination for that part. The next chapter might be a week or so in coming because of school, but don't worry I will not leave this unfinished! Reviews pretty please! Happy Reading!**

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**AJ**

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"Who. Did. This?" She couldn't answer his question. If she told him about Derek, there was no way he'd leave it alone. Plus, his olive-y green eyes were making her lose her focus. They zeroed in on her in a gaze that left her feeling like there was nothing else in the world, which while endearing, was also a little bit frightening. She remembered when cruder, darker eyes had held her in the same regard, and her breathing spiked slightly. She needed space, and so she twisted out from under hands that would never hurt her and sank down into the cushions of her chaise. She picks at her nails for a moment, but she can _feel_ the impatience rolling off of him. She looks up at him, letting her pain show in her face. He took the seat next to her, after she patted it and waited. He took hold of her hand and squeezed lightly. His eyes were so soft when he looked at her that, for a moment, she forgot that they're only best friends, nothing more. She took a deep breath and, after some internal debate, decided to tell him only the very basics.

"An ex. I ran into him at the airport. We parted on bad terms and I don't think he ever got over me leaving him. He wanted me to go with him to catch up. I wouldn't have even if my plane wasn't leaving. He got annoyed I guess and hit me. Security got him and I put ice on my cheek," she paused, frustration creeping into her voice. "But then it swelled up anyway. Do you think it will go away by Monday?" She raised worried eyes to him. She supposed if she spent extra time with makeup they would cover it up or the creative staff could come up with something, but she hoped it wouldn't be that much trouble. His eyes were soft when he looked at her, but the edges hardened in a dangerous way. He carefully cupped her cheek (the one that wasn't busted up), and lightly stroked from her eye to her jawline. He didn't answer her, and she could guess the answer for herself.

"I'm going to find him," he declared, a low undertone in his words. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, noticing vaguely that his arms were very toned despite their wiry appearance.

"Please, just leave it alone. It's okay, he doesn't know where I'm at anyway," she explained, feeling a slight twist in her stomach as she spoke. He shook his head, the light glinting off of his lip ring. She tilted her head slightly so that her hair spilled over his tattooed arms. She let herself get momentarily lost under his gaze before jerking herself out of it. _They were best friends, nothing more_. "Please, Punk. Please?" she begged softly. He stared at her for a moment, then blinked.

"I can't promise you anything," he grumbled. She beamed at him. She knew that was his way of conceding

"That's good enough for me." He opened his mouth to answer her back when a masculine voice floated through the door. She tensed slightly.

"Punk?" John was saying. She breathed out, reminding herself that Derek really didn't know where she was. She turned the idea over in her mind, wondering why John was at _her_ dressing room asking for Punk. He breathed out as well.

"Yeah?" he shouted back.

"Come on man. They're filming your segment right before the show starts," came to her ears. She sighed almost silently, not wanting him to go. He heard her (how could he not? They spent so much time together she knew where he could be found at almost every time of the day), and rubbed circles into her palm, trying to soothe her.

"I'll come by as soon as they let me out. What room are you in?" he murmured, skimming the back of her hand (when had he grabbed her hand?) across his cheekbone. She smiled more genuinely at that. The last time she had avoided telling him her room number, he'd come up with an elaborate hoax to ask the front desk and rearranged all her things.

"143 C," she answered, standing up and pulling her with him (she was strong despite her size). He pulled her into a hug and she nuzzled into his chest.

"Don't worry sunshine. I'll take care of you," he whispered into her hair. She sighed and released him, walking with him to the door. He opened the door and, on a whim, she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek.

"I know," she grinned, closing the door behind him. She lingered in her dressing room for a few more minutes, setting out her ring gear for later that night. Randy poked his head in to check on her on his way to the ring and narrowed his eyes at her. She shook her head in a "don't ask" way and he pointed at her as if to say "later". She was one of the newest divas, but the stars took care of their family. When, after Sheamus and del Rio (he wasn't really a bad guy) knocked on her door as well, she slipped out the back entrance to avoid further questioning. She hailed a cab and (just her luck) the driver was a fan of hers. He chatted excitedly all the way to her hotel without even noticing her cheek. He let her get away with paying with an autograph, and, by the time she made her way to her room, she was just about to pass out. She recognized the fatigue though, and refused to let her beating get the better of her. She unpacked the necessities (none of them ever settled in unless it was WrestleMania) and stretched out on her bed. Thoughts of her Straight Edge Superstar drifted through her mind and she briefly wondered how long she'd be able to get away with not confronting her feelings. A knock on the door brought her out of bed, a smile on her face. She opened the door without checking the peephole (how many times had John told her not to do that?) and froze, every muscle in her body tensing so strongly that she quivered.

"Hey princess," Derek drawled, leaning against her door frame. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. "Scream all you want this time. Nobody's coming to save you," he teased, a smirk crawling across his features as he shoved past her into her room. She backed herself against the wall, sliding away from him as he stalked towards her. He slid the chain closed and her stomach knotted. She didn't know if she'd live to tell Punk to beat the ever loving hell out of him after all. He walked towards her casually. She backed away on instinct until she realized with horror that she was in a corner. A night similar to this flashed behind her lids and a whimper slid out of her mouth. He placed both arms equal to her head and smiled.

"How did you find me?" she whispered, trying to stall. A glance at the clock told her that Punk should be done with filming. If she could hold out for a little longer, he'd save her.

"Wasn't so hard," he answered. "Airport prison isn't as tough as the real deal. A commercial for Friday's show came on. Imagine my surprise when I saw your slutty self beating up on that blonde girl. Didn't take much work from there. Website tells where you've been and where you're going. I'm not stupid April" he was growling by the end. "You knew I'd find you eventually." He roughly grabbed her chin and twisted her head to the right, exposing her bruised cheek to his eyes. "Oh did I leave a mark?" he crooned. She recognized his tone and knew he was about to hit her. Hoping some of her training would help, she rammed her knee into his hunched stomach and ducked under his arm. She was almost to the door (she hadn't thought as far ahead as how she was going to open it that quickly) when she was hit, hard, but not from the direction she expected. She yelped as she flew sideways into the wall but, before she could slid to the ground to perhaps crawl to the bathroom and wait Punk out, she was being dragged up by her hair.

"Don't you learn?" he hissed, slamming his fist into her stomach. She had tensed, expecting it, but her breath still left her, and she gasped. He slapped her other cheek, twice as hard, and threw her to the ground. He landed a few good kicks to her ribs and left spots that would be sure to bruise on her arms and legs whenever she tried to crawl away. It was the worst he'd ever hit her, and she didn't know if she'd be able to hold out for her savior. She landed on her back at one point and he wasted little time in straddling her pelvis as he yanked at her shirt. "Never wore enough clothes did you?" he panted, sending chills up her spine. She'd gotten more flexible since joining WWE, and she was able to land a good kick to his shoulders. He arched up in surprise and she wiggled out from under him. She was dragging herself to the door when he yanked her back again. He slammed her against the wall and, hand at her throat, began to close off her airway. Shadows under the door caught her attention and she nearly cried in relief. Punk was here. She forced a cry out of her mouth and then watched in astonishment as her best friend literally kicked the door in. The light from the hallway illuminated his face and she had never seen him so angry. He was across the room faster than she knew he could move and Derek was off of her in less than a second. She gasped, pulling large gulps of air into her lungs, coughing as she tried to remember how to breathe again. A hand cupped her throat and she tried to smile vindictively as she saw her boy landing more than few good kicks to Derek. Her coughing must have caught his attention because he was at her side almost immediately.

"April," he breathed, his breathing shallow. He crouched down to her position on the floor. She forced a small smile.

"Guess I have some explaining to do," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. She expected some sort of laugh, but his eyes were glued to her face. "What?" she asked, her voice scratchy. She raised a hand to her temple and felt the flow of blood as it left her body. Small black spots began to cloud her vision as she looked at him. "I don't want to die" she whispered.

"I promised I'd take care of you sunshine," he forced out, reaching for her. She noticed Derek standing behind him and, before she could a voice a warning or a declaration of love, her world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. Trig is hell and I've been too busy with homework to work on this. But don't worry, Thanksgiving break starts on Wendesday, so you will have my undivided attention until next Monday. I've bumped us up to a T rating because of the physical violence in the last chapter. I've got a vague idea of how I want to wrap this up, but I don't know how long it will take to get there and I wanted to thank you all for sticking with me so far. You're the best. I realize I kinda forgot this disclaimer in the first chapter so I'll say it here. I own nothing except for the plot and Derek. All other recognizable characters belong to WWE and I am merely borrowing them to play with. Reviews make me a happy writer :D Happy Reading!**

* * *

**CM Punk**

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He'd never been so angry. He channeled his frustration with his father when his character was supposed to go on one of his "respect" rants, but his fury had never been as strong as it had when he heard AJ's feeble cry float through the door. He'd shoved his foot through the door and it was dark in her room. The light from the hallway filled the room and he saw a man looming over his girl. It took a moment to realize that his large hand was at her throat and her eyes were drooping closed. The fire he'd felt in her dressing room when he'd seen her bruised face was nothing compared to what was consuming him now. He might kill the man; this ex that had gone through so much hurt her. He moved quickly in the ring and even quicker outside of it but he had never moved as quickly as he did to get to her. Her room passed in a blink and arms that he didn't recognize as his shot out in front of him, grabbing him by his neck and hurling the larger man into the table next to the bathroom, smashing it to pieces. AJ's body falling to the ground with a nauseating thud was in the back of his mind as he slammed his fists and his legs into the man now writhing under his power on the ground. Coughing on the edge of his hearing drew his attention to AJ lying on the ground clutching her throat. He crouched to her side and the large gash in her temple pouring blood down the side of her beautiful face made him freeze.

"April," he whispered, his breathing shallow. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but he was afraid to move her. Her temple wasn't all that was bleeding, but it was definitely her most immediate danger. Her hand was massaging her throat and she looked up at him, her bright brown eyes warming at the sight of him. She didn't seem to notice the gash on her head and he realized with a twist of his stomach that that was probably because her body has tuned out the pain after a while and he wondered how long his baby girl had been here, locked in a room with that creature.

"Guess I have some explaining to do," she chuckled, trying to lighten the situation. He couldn't laugh. He couldn't breathe. When there was no reaction, her brows furrowed, pushing more blood down her face. "What?" He couldn't take his eyes off the cut. She gently probed her forehead until her fingers felt the blood. Her eyes widened and, by the look on her face, she had to know that the cut was potentially fatal. Her next words broke his heart. "I don't want to die," she whispered. He forced a small smile.

"I promised I'd take care of you sunshine," he murmured, reaching for her. Her eyes widened behind his shoulder and then she slumped to the ground. Years in the ring had sharpened his senses and he felt the presence behind him before the air whistled passed his head as he ducked out of the way of a punch. He whirled and rammed his shoulder into the man's stomach in a loose interpretation of the spear that Edge had taught him after his retirement. He heard the breath whistle out of his lungs as he flew into the opposite wall. Now that there was no distraction, he let go of his fury and landed punch after punch until he felt the body beneath him go limp with unconsciousness. He took a moment to catch his breath before whirling to his best friend that still lay crumpled on the ground. He was unwilling to leave her ex in the room without him there to make sure that no escape was possible. He knew he was running out of time – he wasn't sure if her wound was still bleeding but still. The phone on her nightstand was a miracle. The clerk at the front desk could barely speak; why did all the fans show up at the most inconvenient times? Of course that meant little questions were asked when he requested a security guard and the police. When the guard arrived, he was told that the police were still a good 15 minutes away – something about a robbery. Annoyed, he demanded the guard not let her ex even stand up. Security agreed, probably noticing the crazy fire burning in the back of his hazel eyes. Gently cradling AJ, he left the room going to the only person he knew was insane enough to have access to a car thousands of miles from where he lived.

"The hell Punk?" Cena's eyes were wide as he opened the door. His gaze flickered down to AJ and anger covered his features. "If you hit her," he began.

"Please. John. I'd never hit a woman let alone a woman I lo…let alone AJ," he protested, stumbling over his words as his feelings just about tumbled out. John raised an eyebrow.

"So call an ambulance! And hurry the hell up! That gash is bad. Is it still bleeding?" his friend yelled, stepping out into the hallway and slamming the door to his room.

"All emergency services have been called to some damn robbery!" he griped. "Why do you think I came here? You're the only idiot big enough in our business to get a car no matter where you are!"

"Fine, come on," John said, making his way down the hallway moving quickly. Despite his size, Punk was not small or weak. He carried his girl's body with ease, running his fingers through the fringe on her gray one shoulder now soaked with her blood. Miraculously, there was no one to question them as they made their way out of the hotel. "Relax, we're almost there," he soothed, as he made his way to a garage.

"I can't relax. She's been unconscious for almost 20 minutes," he whispered. John opened the garage, revealing a black _Lexus_.

"Why the hell do you have a Lexus in California? You live in Florida!" Punk complained as he slid in the back seat with AJ still in his arms.

"Why do you care? It's helping you now," was the reply as John started the car and nearly floored it to the nearest hospital. No police pulled them over. No red lights stopped them. Punk sent a thank you to whatever God was guiding their way. The car screeched to a stop in front of the ER and he was out of the back faster than he thought was possible. The doors opened and it was _freezing_ in the hospital. He hated the smell of them; you could smell the disease under the cleanliness. The nurse at the front desk jumped up. She started yelling for a doctor and he couldn't have been more thankful when one appeared with several nurses and a gurney. He laid her gently on it and watched nervously as they rolled her to the back. He stood in the hallway idly, unsure what to do.

"Sir, there's blood on your shirt," the desk nurse murmured, pulling out a white shirt. He looked at her, confused at what she was saying. She smiled softly. "You don't want to sit in the waiting room with her blood on you." He nodded woodenly and took the shirt. She was pointing out a bathroom when he whipped off his shirt, revealing his tattoo covered chest, and would've laughed under other circumstances at her face. He quickly replaced his shirt and noticed her mouth was still open.

"He does that for a living," John said, coming up behind him. She nodded uncertainly and went back to the desk.

"The waiting room is that way," she said, pointing. John clapped his shoulder but when he didn't follow, his friend took his elbow and guided him to the waiting room. With a sigh, he collapsed into a blue vinyl chair. Unable to sit still, he leaned forward on his forearms. The T.V on the wall had a commercial for Survivor Series running, but he couldn't pay attention. Besides, he'd seen that promo a hundred times.

"She'll be okay," he murmured, lightly punching his arm.

"I didn't get to her in time," he whispered, head down. "I told her in her dressing room that I'd take care of her and I couldn't get to her in time."

"Punk you had no way of knowing her ex would show up. She held on for you man."

"She's unconscious in a hospital. When she wakes up, she's probably gonna have bruises and cuts over her entire body. I didn't get to her in time," he repeated stubbornly.

"But she's AJ. You know she fought back. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't know you'd be coming for her. She loves you bro," John said, exasperated. He paused, then closed his eyes. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"What are you talking about?"

"She talks to me. I really am her big brother," he began.

"I'm her best friend," he shouted. The few others in the waiting room turned to stare and he lowered his voice. "I'm her best friend," he repeated.

"No, you're in love with her. I'm her big brother. I'd never fall for her romantically and she doesn't see me that way either. She talks to me about things she can't talk to you about because you are what needs talked about. She loves you," he said softly, trying to tread carefully.

"What? She can talk to me about anything," he half-questioned half-stated.

"Tell me Punk. You talk to me about her. Why? Why don't you talk to her instead of me?" Punk opened his mouth to explain and realized he couldn't. Uncomfortable, he tugged on his lip ring in thought. "Because it's awkward talking to the person you love telling them that you love them. It's how I felt around Beth when we first met. Sam and Randy were the same way. God I couldn't get him to shut up about her for the longest time. AJ's no different. She doesn't want to go to you about her feelings because you're the one her feelings are for."

"I'd never been as mad as when I saw him hitting her. My dad hit my mom one time; I was so mad I threw a vase at his head. It couldn't even compare to how I felt when I saw her bruises," he whispered. He supposed he couldn't deny it anymore – he may have been a jack off on screen but he wasn't that way off camera.

"You need to tell her," John was saying. He sat bolt upright.

"I can't," he protested. "It's too much for her right now."

"I'm not saying you have to do it now. I'm just saying you need to do it. She's a catch. It won't be long before someone does tell her." Punk was about to say something back when the doctor walked into the doorway.

"April Mendez?" he called, looking down at his clipboard. Punk shot up, then looked down at John with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll see her later. Besides, someone should probably call the company and explain what happened," he said, waving Punk forward. With a sigh of both relief and fear, he moved towards the doctor.

"How is she?" he asked.

"It's not good."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi guys! So these two chapters were sort of like fillers. It'll start picking up again after this. I'm really sorry I haven't had time to update but I swear that I will get at least one more chapter out before Monday. Thanks for sticking with me. I love you guys so much (but I'd love you even more if you review *wink wink*). Happy Reading!**

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**AJ**

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When she woke up, she was alone. The white wall with a board on it that said "Hi, I'm your RN Tammy" confused her. She tried turning her head to look around, but panicked when she found she couldn't move. She sucked in a deep breath and found out the hard way that that caused serious pain and forced herself to calm down. With a rush, the memories of Derek, but more importantly Punk, flooded back to her. She recognized the walls of a hospital and took a moment to be thankful that she was even alive. A nurse passing by poked her head in and smiled brightly.

"Good! You're awake," she chattered as she moved into the room. She placed a blood pressure cuff around her arm and began looking over her vital signs. "Yes, you're doing very well," she murmured, fluttering around the room. AJ watched her with tired eyes.

"Miss?" she asked softly. The nurse smiled up at her, pausing by her heart machine.

"Please, call me Tammy. Yes?"

"Am I alone?" she whispered. She didn't think her best friend would abandon her, but he wasn't in the room with her now and she couldn't remember if he had been there at all. The nurse, Tammy, looked over the machine readings one more time before coming to stand by her bed. She laid a hand gently on AJ's arm.

"Oh no Miss. You've been asleep for a few days, so I suppose you wouldn't know how many people we've seen come in and out of your room."

"Can you tell me who?" she asked, a slight hitch in her voice. If Derek had found her, Punk or no Punk, she wouldn't get away alive this time. Tammy glanced up at the clock, then moved to a blue chair closest to her bed.

"Well, there was one very white gentleman, a man with many tattoos, one who didn't speak very good English, one with long dark hair, a very, very large man, a black man with braids, a black man with a little boy named Jimmy, a girl with blonde and black hair, a very pretty brunette, a blonde, and two men haven't left the waiting room since you checked in. The doctor prohibited more than one visitor at a time while you were asleep," she explained, counting off on her fingers the number of people who had been by to see her. Her heart swelled as she realized how much her family loved her. If she'd been here two days, she knew that they'd had to postpone other shows and she hoped she'd be able to express to Vince how much that meant to her.

"The men who've been in the waiting room?" she asked. Tammy smiled.

"Actually, I was told to inform them the moment you were awake. I know it's against the doctor's order, but I don't believe either one of them will be able to wait. Just a moment," she smiled as she left the room. AJ let out a breath. The man with many tattoos could be Punk, but she knew that if he came in with a "very white gentleman" and "one who didn't speak very good English" that it was probably Randy. She ran over in her mind the list of people who would stay nonstop in a hospital waiting room for her. A small knock on her door had her looking up. Tammy smiled again. "Here she is," she said as she opened the door wider.

"Hey little sis," John whispered as he walked in. His t-shirt looked slept in and there were circles under his eyes.

"John! What are you doing here? Isn't RAW supposed to be in Milwaukee right now?" she demanded, wishing she could crawl out of bed to jump on the man she considered her big brother. He looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and slight annoyance.

"Do you really think that any of us would continue touring without you? More importantly, do you think I really give a damn about where we're supposed to be if my little sister is in the hospital?" he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow and moving farther into the room to hold her hand. A light blush colored her cheeks.

"Well no, I guess not," she mumbled. He smiled and squeezed her hand.

"I'm glad you're awake. But I think someone else wants to be here with you a little more than I do right now," he said, standing to his full 6 foot height. He smiled down at her. "I'll be back a little later, okay?" She nodded her okay.

"Thank you for being here," she said quietly, appreciation bursting from every word. John glanced at the door, then sat back down.

"Why didn't you tell me about Derek?" he asked softly. She winced slightly at the memories that his name brought back (she still didn't know the extent of her injuries) and he gently patted her hand – his way of soothing her.

"At first, I was afraid you'd feel sorry for me. I'm a big girl and I don't want anybody's pity. And then once we were like brother and sister I knew that if I told you that you'd go and find him. If anyone I knew got to him, it was only a matter of time until he got to me. I couldn't risk him hurting someone I care about," she played with her hands as she spoke, a silent plea in her voice for him to understand. He stood and kissed her forehead.

"I'd take on the devil for you baby sister. An ex, even a crazy one, is nothing," he chided lightly as he walked towards the door. "Really, I'll be by later. I'm gonna head back to the hotel and shower and sleep. Waiting room chairs aren't the best pillow." She could tell by the look on his face that he saw the fear in her eyes. "Don't worry," he said gently, "you won't be alone." Before she could ask what he meant, he was out the door. She heard his lowered voice, then a beat of silence. She leaned her head back into the pillows and sighed.

"Hey princess," said a familiar voice. Her head shot up and she took in the sight of the man in the doorway.

"Hi," she said meekly. He ran a hand through his greased back hair and moved into her room.

"Tammy, I'm closing the door!" he called into the hallway. Her voice was faint when she answered.

"Okay, don't try anything Punk! She's still a patient." AJ raised an eyebrow at the exchange as he stepped farther into her room and closed the door.

"Know each other?" she finally asked as he sat on the edge of her bed.

"Not before two days ago. I spent a lot of time here," he explained, looking at her intently.

"Punk," she began but he laid a hand over her mouth. His eyes were very soft and slightly glassy.

"You don't have to talk right now about it princess," he murmured, moving until he was lying next to her on the bed. He intertwined his fingers with hers and she idly traced the tattoo patterns she knew were there. There was a moment of silence.

"I was 16 when I met Derek. He was a senior and you couldn't imagine how happy I was when he asked me out on a date. It went well – better than that actually, and there were more dates until we were sort of a couple. We were together for the rest of my high school life. He was good to me, surprisingly. On my 18th birthday, he asked me to move in with him. I was young and in love and didn't think twice about saying yes. My mama cautioned me but I thought she didn't know what he was like; she didn't know the strength of our love. He didn't hit me until we had been living together for a year. He told me I had a very long leash and if I wanted to keep it I had better behave. And then he slapped my face, not hard, but it left a bruise. I had gotten home ten minutes late. After that, he closed in the walls faster than I could react. All of a sudden, I was a stay at home girlfriend who lived in fear that he'd beat me when he came home. Little things would set him off – if I forgot to set the table or if he found dust in our room. One night, I didn't have dinner ready when he came home. He broke my elbow and made me stay home until it healed enough for me to use it. That's when I left him. It was the day before my 21st birthday. I didn't even take anything when I ran. He didn't really let me have anything that held meaning to it anyway. I saw a commercial that RAW was having auditions. I'd been a wrestling fan since I was little and I decided I was homeless and on the run from an abusive ex; what the hell? They signed me that day. And then I met you," she murmured, feeling the tears drip down her face as she told her story. His grip had tightened slightly on her hand, not enough to hurt but enough that she knew it hurt him to hear what had happened to her. His lightly calloused thumb very carefully wiped the tears away from under her eyes.

"April," he whispered and she was surprised to hear how gravelly it sounded, "you have no idea how I felt when I kicked down your door. I thought I was too late and the fire," he broke off and took a sharp breath, "the fire in me was almost unbearable. I could've killed him and been happy about it." Her eyes widened.

"He's dead?" she squeaked, feeling her stomach drop.

"No. I left him unconscious. I'm sure he's been taken to jail by now. Don't worry, I'll find out exactly what happened to him," he said, stroking her hair. "April, look at me," he requested, tilting her chin up. She was speechless when she saw the tears in his eyes.

"I could've lost you. God, if I had been a minute later," he trailed off, looking away from her. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't be able to detect the shame on his face, but she knew him better than she knew herself.

"But you got there in time," she whispered, bringing his knuckles to her lips and kissing his hand. He pulled away from her and there was a fire in his eyes. She knew that it wasn't directed at her (he was never angry with her), more at himself.

"No I didn't! You have four broken ribs, a torn meniscus, a sprained ankle, a fractured arm, bruises covering your arms, legs, and throat, cuts all over your stomach, and 10 stitches in your temple! He hurt you so badly that they had to induce a two and a half day coma so your brain wouldn't swell. Don't tell me that I got there in time," he growled. She could recognize that he was trying to keep his voice quiet, and his temper didn't scare her. She reached a hand out (the one that wasn't in a cast,) and gently stoked his cheek. He laid a hand over hers and, when he looked at her again, the fire was gone. She opened her mouth to talk when her doctor came in.

"Punk, what did I say about being on the bed with her?" he said distractedly, barely looking up from his charts. Punk smirked in her direction, then addressed the doctor.

"Sorry Doc," he answered, sliding off the bed. He retreated to the corner closest to her and folded his arms over his chest. The doctor looked up and smiled.

"It's alright. Well Miss Mendez, how are you feeling?" he asked in a warm tone. She smiled tentatively at him.

"Okay all things considered. When can I go back to work?" He frowned slightly.

"Well, that's a rather complicated question. You had extreme brain trauma when you came to us, and that will take time to heal as will your meniscus, arm, ankle, and ribs. I understand that there's no place for you to be safely right now?" he questioned, looking at her as he flitted around, checking all of her machines and doing a quick check up. She shook her head. "I highly discourage traveling alone. You'll need someone to look after you, and help you around for a couple of weeks. You're cleared to fly, but I'm afraid you won't be able to compete for at least 8 to 12 months," he said, sadness etched into his voice. Her eyes watered.

"Eight to 12 months?" she repeated, her voice wavering. She looked over at Punk and her heart broke to see her sorrow mirrored in his features.

"But you can travel with your roster. As we've learned these past few days, they aren't willing to leave you behind," he said with a smile. She sighed. "Is there anyone you can stay with?" he asked carefully.

"Kaitlyn or Eve I suppose. But I don't want to bother them. Maybe John?" she asked, looking up at Punk. He clenched his jaw and uncrossed his arms.

"She'll be with me," he said to the doctor. Doc raised an eyebrow.

"Be sure to keep your hands to yourself. She isn't cleared for _any_ physical activity," he said knowingly looking between the two of them. AJ blushed, but Punk grinned.

"You know, if you hadn't been so good to her these past two days, I'd sue you for harassment," he muttered.

"Sure you would tough guy," her doctor teased. "Anyway, April, you're cleared to leave today. Just let me," he murmured, leaning over and disconnecting all of her machines. "Tammy will be in with some clothes in a few minutes," he smiled at her and then, with a wave, was gone. She let out a breath full of tears.

"Eight to 12 months?" she asked again, her lip trembling. Punk crawled back into bed next to her. He lightly stroked her cheek.

"It could be worse sunshine," he murmured into her hair.

"I don't see how," she mumbled, pulling away from him. He gently took hold of her chin and moved her eyes back to him. His walls were down and his eyes probed her face.

"You could be gone," he whispered, gently pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched and she stared at him. He was so unguarded and his eyes (God, she loved his eyes) were so soft and full of emotion.

"Punk, what did the doctor say about being on the bed with her?" Tammy chuckled, not really looking at either of them as she opened the door. He stared at her for a moment before turning his gaze towards the nurse.

"She's been cleared to check out Tammy. I'm hardly breaking the rules," he said innocently, sliding out of bed. All of her machines had been unhooked and she sat up.

"Sure. Well, out you go," she scolded, waving Punk out of the room. He looked confused and Tammy raised an eyebrow. "Don't think you're going to help her change. She hasn't been cleared for _any_ physical activity and that's my job." He grinned at her over Tammy's shoulder, then held his hands up in mock surrender and ducked out of the room. "That man is going to be the death of you," she announced. AJ sighed.

"Tell me about it."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello again! Two chapters this weekend *woot woot* I've finished the last chapter, but there are still a few loose ends to tie up. Reviews will make me freak out in a fangasm type way. Yes, I just said fangasm. I feel like this chapter sort of…what's the word I'm looking for…sucked. Definitely not my best, but the more I mess with it the more the next chapters will be screwed up. Ease my conscious. Happy reading!**

* * *

**CM Punk**

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He was rather impatient as he waited for her to get changed and get the necessary paperwork signed, which was unusual for him. He was a very patient person. His knee bounced up and down as he sat in the same waiting room chair he'd been sleeping in for the past few nights and let his eyes run over the details of the room he'd already memorized. He felt the presence of someone sitting down next to him, but it was a presence he knew very well.

"She's been cleared to check out. I'm just waiting to take her back," he said, not looking away from the wall.

"She's gonna be in your tour bus for the next few months isn't she?" John asked, a smile in his voice. He blew a breath out and finally looked in his friend's direction. The expression on his face kept him from being teased. John raised a brow. "What's up?" He ran a hand over his face.

"She's going to be on my tour bus for at least a month while her meniscus heals. I'm going to sleep in the same room so to speak as she is. I can barely keep a handle on things when she's in a different hotel room," he confessed, frustration in his voice. "She's going to have nightmares in the middle of the night and I'm going to comfort her. I can't push her too far too soon because then I lose her. And if I lose her, I lose everything," he said softly, dropping his head into his hands. Cena was quiet and he idly thought about how many times his character wished that would happen. Finally he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up in time to see AJ appear in the doorway with Tammy holding a bag. She was leaning hard on her ankle that wasn't sprained in a pair of his sweats that he'd dropped off (he knew anything but sweats were hell when you had a messed up knee) and a tight white tank top he'd found in her room that revealed a strip of her toned stomach (he'd known that she wouldn't want to put on her bloody clothes that she arrived in, but maybe he should've looked for a t-shirt because he could see the bandage around her ribs). He couldn't pull his eyes from her and it did funny things to his stomach to see her in his clothes. Her eyes immediately found him and a smile lit up her face.

"I think you'll find that you won't have to push her," John said quietly, standing up and walking over to her. She moved her eyes from his face to her approaching "big brother". She smiled up at him and reached up with her good arm to give him a hug. A slight stab hit him somewhere in his gut, but when John turned put an arm around her waist to carefully help her over to him, he shot Punk a look that said "don't you dare". John took the bag from Tammy and smiled down at her. It looked like he was thanking her and she smiled at both him and Punk before pecking AJ on the cheek and waving goodbye as she disappeared back down the hall.

"Sorry I'm so slow," she apologized as she limped over to him, leaning heavily on John. He shook his head.

"You're apologizing for walking slow with a busted up knee and sprained ankle?" he asked disbelievingly. She smiled, but, because he knew her so well, he could see the amount of pain she was in. Her skin was sallow and a very light sheen of sweat covered her face. Her bottom lip was slightly swollen from biting it and her hand that emerged from her cast was clenched.

"So, you're my ride?" she double checked, sounding just slightly out of breath. He nodded.

"John, take her bag," he instructed. She looked at him, confused, but John didn't ask any question. He took her bag and waited. He smiled cheekily at her. "Sorry," he said, not sounding apologetic at all. He very carefully bent and, being careful of her torn knee and sprained ankle, gently scooped her up in his arms. She gasped a little, but he could feel the relaxation of her muscles as she slumped into his embrace.

"Punk, I can walk," she griped, not trying to fight him at all.

"No you can't. I'm perfectly capable of carrying you and I can tell it hurts when you walk," he murmured, only to her. "Can you open the door and everything?" he asked, throwing the question over his shoulder.

"Despite the past, I am not actually a fruity pebble," John muttered, stalking in front of them to hold the waiting room door open. AJ giggled as they made their way out. The sun was shining and they were enveloped in typical California heat.

"Thank you big brother!" she called as he made his way to the rental car he'd gotten Punk because the Second City Savior had refused to leave the waiting room. He turned and smiled no animosity in his gaze.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get in the car," he teased, opening the car door for her. Punk carefully slid her in and she immediately propped her leg up on the dashboard. He closed the door and leaned against it.

"Thanks," he said to John, holding a hand up for the keys. He caught them neatly in midair and didn't miss the slight smile on his friend's face.

"Take care of her or I will personally turn you into a pretzel and leave you to bake in the desert," he threatened, no trace of joking in his features. Punk straightened up and looked him in the eyes.

"I will always take care of her," he swore, moving around the front of the car and slipping into the driver's seat. He honked once at John before putting it drive. He laid his hand on the console and was only vaguely surprised when he felt her fingers twine with his.

"Thank you," she said softly, squeezing his hand. He looked over at her for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Anything for you," he murmured. There was a beat of silence and he could feel the bunching of her muscles as she tensed. He rubbed circles into the back of her hand. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. He pulled over on the road back to the hotel and looked over at her. She was coiled tightly in her seat. Her eyes were straight ahead, but she lightly ran her thumb over his un-taped hands.

"What did you say happened to Derek?" she asked in a tight voice. He noticed the way her voice broke over his name and he brought her hand to his lips soothingly.

"He's in San Diego County Jail. No bail. It wasn't hard to convince them to lock him up for a while," he said, unable to help the hardening of his voice as he thought of the creature that had hurt his girl. She took a shaky breath and finally turned her head to look at him.

"I want to go see him." His eyes widened and he stared at her for a good five minutes with an "explain. now" expression on his face. "I know that he's a terrible person and I truly hope that he gets turned into someone's little bitch so he knows my pain," she broke off in slight laughter as she looked at him. He was sure his brows were raised and his jaw was open. "But I need closure. It's only been four years since we split. Which means it's been nine years that I've been tied to him in some way. I need to let him see that he can't get to me anymore. You don't have to take me. I understand how hard it was for you to burst in and see me that way," she said, no trace of bitterness of sarcasm in her words. He sighed and ran his free hand over his face.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you," he muttered, putting the car into drive and taking the road towards the jail and away from his tour bus. It was quiet in the car until he brought the car to a stop in the parking lot. He felt her hand on his cheek and he glanced over at her.

"Thank you," she breathed again, lightly pressing her lips to his cheek. He blew out a breath and threw a slightly shaky smile her way.

"Anything for you, princess," he chuckled, getting out of the car and spinning towards her. He carefully scooped her up again. He tried to tell himself it wasn't manly to get butterflies when she let her hand dip below his t-shirt on the back of his neck.

"You're going to have to put me down when I go to see him," she announced as he wrestled (hah, how about that pun?) the door open with her still in his arms.

"Yeah, I know," he grunted. He very gently set her on her feet and offered his arm in an old-fashioned way for support. She smiled up at him, took his elbow, and made her way to the desk. The desk cop looked slightly shocked at her appearance and shot daggers at Punk who raised his hands defensively.

"Oh no," she scolded, a hand on her hip. "He would never lay a hand on me unless I asked him to," (insert slight blush from Punk here) she gestured to all her injuries, "The man who did all this to me is in your jail. But I'd like to see him please," she asked, softening her tone. The cop nodded, disappearing into the back room.

"Both of you?" he asked in a gruff voice when he reappeared. AJ started to shake her head no, but Punk quickly inserted a yes and they were both lead to through the back room, where they were searched, and into the cell area.

"I'll wait here," he murmured gently, kissing her hand. She nodded in appreciation and made her way, slowly, three cells down from Punk, who fumed when whistles echoed through the room. He saw her tiny hands grip the bars as she spoke quietly to the man behind them. When a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, the look of terror on her face was all he comprehended before he shot down the aisle and, as gently as possible, jerked her away.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, I couldn't wait until the weekend to post this bad boy. I kinda really like this chapter. Bear with me, we've got one more to go! Only one more…. Gah the thought makes me a little sad. Reviews make my terrible school week worth living through so tell me what you think. Your support is so overwhelming. Happy Reading!**

* * *

**AJ**

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Her eyes were drawn to him the second she limped her way to the doorway. To her credit, Tammy didn't do anything other than smile at her as she held the bag filled with all her required paperwork and the jeans she'd been wearing when she was checked in. Her shirt had been bloodied beyond repair and she would be eternally grateful to Punk for bringing her new clothes – even if wearing his sweats did make her stomach sort of tingle (thank God he knew that anything but sweats were hell when you had a messed up knee). A smile lit up her face before she could control it and she wished her ankle worked well enough for her to run up to him. She dragged her eyes from Punk to John who was making his way over to her with a smile on his face. He looked much better than he had when he left her. She reached up with her good arm to hug him at the same time he wrapped his arms around her waist and, from the corner of her eyes, saw Punk narrow his eyes just slightly. She was about to ask John about it but he had turned around (with an arm securely around her waist to keep pressure off her ankle) and before she could mention it, it was gone. It wasn't like she hadn't suffered injuries, especially to her legs, from competing, but she had never had an injured knee and a sprained ankle at the same time and she kept biting her lip and clenching her fist to keep from making noise.

"Sorry I'm so slow," she apologized, trying to laugh it off, but she was holding her breath and it came out sounding forced. He stared at her for a minute, then raised an eyebrow.

"You're apologizing for walking slow with a busted up knee and sprained ankle?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. She bit her lip, forced a smile, and nodded.

"So you're my ride?" she asked, searching for something to say. His eyes were roaming her face and there was a slight pause. He nodded, then pointed in John's direction.

"Take her bag," he barked. She cocked her head and looked at him, her brown eyes roaming over his face. John smirked at her before gently prying her fingers away from her bag. He stood closer to her than usual and she moved her curious gaze to her big brother's face. "Sorry," Punk said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She opened her mouth to say something when he bent and carefully (being wary of her leg) scooped her up in his arms. She gasped slightly, air rushing out of her in surprise. She twisted her fingers into the back of his shirt.

"Punk, I can walk," she protested, not even squirming. He subtly hooked his index finger under the hem of her t-shirt. His cool knuckles against her skin had her sucking in her breath for a different reason.

"No you can't. I'm perfectly capable of carrying you and I know it hurts when you walk," he murmured, his nose brushing her ear. She shivered lightly and he tightened his grip marginally. "Can you open the door and everything?" he asked over his shoulder as he began walking. She rested her chin on his shoulder and watched, with a suppressed giggle, as John's face hardened slightly.

"Despite the past, I'm not actually a fruity pebble," he muttered, looking as if he'd shove Punk into the wall if he wasn't carrying her. She laughed and was pleased to see a smile on his Punk's face as well.

"Thank you big brother!" she called as he stalked to the car (must be a rental) in the parking lot, blinking against the strong California sun. He jerked open the passenger door and leaned his arm against the top of it. He smiled, no sarcasm anywhere in his features.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get in the car," he grumbled, a sparkle in his eyes. Punk gently settled her into the seat and she wasted no time in propping her sore ankle up on the dashboard. He smiled at her before gently closing the door. He leaned against it and she could see (but only heard murmurs) them talking and John punched him lightly on the shoulder. He made his way around the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat and honked the horn at the retreating CeNation leader. His un-taped hand rested neatly on the console and, after internal debate, she reached out and twined her fingers with his. He lightly squeezed her hand and there was a moment of silence before she spoke.

"Thank you," she said softly, putting appreciation, not just for the ride but for the whole week, into her words. She returned the squeeze and gently brushed his knuckles along her lips. He looked over at her for a moment, the intensity of his olive-y eyes freezing her, before turning his gaze back to the road leaving her feeling slightly transparent.

"Anything for you," he murmured, a small smile on his face. She let herself relax, the thrumming of the engine soothing her ears and the comfortable weight of his hand soothing her mind. Of course, she couldn't put off thoughts of Derek for long and soon her muscles began to bunch as she tensed in her seat. She shifted her weight and squirmed in her seat. "What's wrong?" he questioned, pulling the car to the shoulder of the road and turning his gaze to her face. He was rubbing circles into the skin between her thumb and her index finger, trying to soothe her. She ran her thumb lightly over the heart tattooed on the top of his hand in response. Her eyes were straight ahead when she spoke.

"What did you say happened to Derek?" she asked, nerves making her voice unnaturally tight.

"He's in San Diego County Jail. No bail. It wasn't hard to convince them to lock him up for a while," he replied. She noticed the hardening of his voice and she shivered delicately, glad she was never the object of his anger. She took a breath and turned her head until she was looking at him.

"I want to go see him." She could tell by the widening of his eyes that he wasn't expecting that. She wasn't sure she could explain why she needed to go see the man that put her in the hospital other than she just needed to know it was over. She wanted to let him see that he hadn't broken her and she also needed to say goodbye. He'd been a part of her life for nearly 10 years and, though most of the time they'd spent together had been hell, she still had good memories with him. He was her first kiss, the first man she'd ever gone to bed with (never mind that most of the other times were forced, she'd gone willingly the first time), the first man she'd ever loved. She sucked in a breath then began speaking. "I know that he's a terrible person and I truly hope that he gets turned into someone's little bitch so he knows my pain," she broke off here laughing because of the look on his face and took a moment to sober before continuing, "But I need closure. It's only been four years since we split. Which means it's been nine years that I've been tied to him in some way. I need to let him see that he can't get to me anymore. You don't have to take me. I understand how hard it was for you to burst in and see me that way," she murmured, no teasing in her voice at all. She understood the pain of seeing someone you loved being hurt and she couldn't imagine what he had felt like to see her on the brink of death. He sighed, and ran his hand over his face. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, then straightened.

"Fine. But I'm going with you," he muttered, twisting the key in the ignition, pulling the car back onto the road, and driving away from the hotel. It was silent in the car the whole ride to the jail and guilt twisted her stomach. She couldn't help but think that he was angry with her. She laid her hand over his cheek and waited until he looked at her.

"Thank you," she breathed, pausing only for a moment before gently pressing her lips to his cheek. She felt the slight stiffening of his body, but the shaky smile he threw at her told her she hadn't crossed a line.

"Anything for you, princess," he chuckled, opening the door and sliding out. She waited patiently until he made his way around to her side (she learned early on that he was serious about being a gentleman around her). He carefully pulled her out of the car, keeping her cradled, and she braced herself as she let her fingers dip just below the neck of his t-shirt. She smiled to herself at the slight twinkle in his eyes and nearly laughed aloud when he shifted her to one arm and opened the door with the other (he was much stronger than he appeared).

"You're going to have to put me down when I go to see him," she announced, an amused tone to her voice.

"Yeah I know," he grumbled, lightly setting her down on her feet (or, foot). He crooked his elbow and offered it to her, a smile tugging at his lips. She took it, leaning heavily on him as she limped her way towards the front desk. The cop behind the desk widened his eyes at her cast and bruises and turned to death glare Punk. To his credit, he didn't say anything, just raised his hands defensively. She took her hand from Punk's elbow and cocked her hip out.

"Oh no," she scolded. "He would never lay a hand on me unless I asked him to." The words came out casually, but something just below her navel danced happily at the thought. She noticed with satisfaction that he had a light pink color to his cheeks. She gestured to her bruised and battered body. "The man who did all this to me is in your jail. But I'd like to see him please," she requested, softening her voice. The officer looked at her like she was crazy and she mentally sighed. Only women who had been in her position would understand. He poked his head into a back room for a moment.

"Both of you?" he asked in a gruff voice. She started to shake her head, but Punk smoothly inserted a "yes", avoiding her questioning glance. They were led through the back room, searched, and, as they were taken to the holding cells, she found she was glad for his presence.

"I'll wait here," he whispered, kissing her knuckles before letting go of her hand. She smiled gratefully and squared her tiny shoulders. Holding her head high, she ignored the whistles that were echoing around the room and stopped at the third cell down. He was sitting on a bench looking properly crazy. He didn't notice her presence, even as she wrapped her tiny hands around the bars.

"Derek," she said in a clear voice. His head shot up and bloodshot eyes pinned her in place. She took a breath, reminding herself that Punk was there, and straightened her spine. "I know that things ended badly between us and I'm not going to try to take the blame for it. It is your fault, but I came to tell you that I wish they could've ended differently. And goodbye. Don't try to find me again because I can promise you that you'll get taken down before you reach the hotel." She gasped when his dirty hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist (the one not in a cast). She only spared a moment for the terror because, before she could scream or cry or drop to the floor and apologize, she was being jerked (very gently) away from the bar and behind her Straight Edge Superstar.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he growled out, putting his character to shame. Derek's eyes widened and recognition flashed across his face. He backed away a few steps from the bars (she could see why – the look in his eyes was worrying her). A sarcastic sneer crawled across his face. "It's not so much fun when you find someone who can fight back, is it? Now listen very carefully. You will stay here. You will probably go to trial and then get locked away, but if you don't, you will not come near her. She is mine and I restrained myself last time because she was hurt. I won't be so generous next time and you won't live to look at her again. Understood?" To her shock, Derek nodded meekly, retreating to the corner like a kicked dog. Punk glanced at her and all the anger drained out of his face. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes (a response to Derek, not to him), and he wasted little time in lifting her up and walking out of the police station with a forced "We're through" to the startled cop. He set her down against the door of the car and she leaned back, letting the tears overflow. The pads of his thumbs were wiping them away and he had an apologetic look on his face. "I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered. She hiccupped, then shook her head.

"You didn't, really. He just…" she trailed off, unable to explain, and not really wanting to. His thumbs were resting just underneath her cheekbones and his hands lightly cupped her neck. He towered over her and she found that she was comforted by this rather than frightened. His eyes smoldered and she felt whatever had been dancing behind her navel earlier coil lower.

"April," he began in a low voice, then he hesitated. She laid her hand gently over his.

"Don't talk." His lips were very, very soft as they connected with hers.

* * *

April Mendez, AJ, smiled as she stood in the airport. She didn't travel alone anymore. As two little girls and their older brothers approached her, she very gently squeezed the tattooed hand that rested on her waist and thought to herself that she was much better off that way.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Not sure if it seemed like this was over, buuut it's not. So guys! This is the last chapter! What am I going to do with myself when I don't have my wonderful Punk to sweep AJ off her feet? I hope this story has been as much fun for you guys to read as it was for me to write. Thanks so much for staying with me through all of this and I can't express how much this means to me. You can, uh, still review you know(: Happy reading!**

**Hey guys. Serious topic now. My grandma is in the hospital. She has good vital signs but her eyes are "fixed" which mean she's got brain damage. She probably won't be waking up. I just wanted to thank you for your support. Every time I check and see your positive reviews I feel a little bit better. Again, thank you.**

* * *

**AJ**

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AJ woke with a start, alone in the darkness of her hotel room, and out of breath. She sat slowly and pulled her blanket clad knees to her chest. Her breathing seemed loud in the quiet of her room. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read 3:45 and the absence of light from the edges of the window indicated it was 3:45 in the morning. She grabbed her phone and realized, with a strange drop in her stomach, that she, along with the rest of the company, was still in Dallas. She dropped her phone to the bed and threw her legs over the edge. She groped along the wall, stumbling into the bathroom. She blinked blindly against the bright light and looked in the mirror. Her eyes widened and she gently lifted an (un-casted) arm to touch her unblemished skin.

"It was a dream," she whispered to her reflection. She slid down the wall (with perfectly fine knees and ankles) and let out a small sob. "It was just a dream," she cried into her hands. After a while, she pulled herself up and curled back under the warm comforter of the bed. She stared up at the ceiling even though she couldn't see anything. She let out a heavy breath and smiled slightly to herself.

"It was just a dream but maybe it could be real," she murmured to the dark.

* * *

**CM Punk**

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CM Punk jerked awake. He felt stifling even though the covers were thrown off and he wasn't wearing a shirt. He raked one hand through his hair and another over his face. He lightly slapped his cheek, trying to wake up. The clock on the bedside table said 3:45, and he couldn't quite determine what had woken him up. With a rush, his dream flooded back to him. How strange he should dream about his best friend. There was a small knock on his door and he grumbled as he dragged himself out of bed. Who in their right mind was knocking on his door at 3:45 in the morning? He opened the door, blinking awkwardly against the bright hallway light and dropped his gaze down to the tiny brunette that was the source of his sleeplessness. Her hair was mussed and she was in a pair of sweats and a sports bra.

"AJ?" he asked, his voice rusty and gravelly with sleep. She waved meekly and he stepped aside, allowing her access to his room. She walked in and paused a moment, adjusting to the dark.

"No, don't turn on the light," she said softly when he went to flip the switch. He closed the door and turned to the direction he knew she was facing.

"This is going to sound really weird, but I had this dream and I just wanted to come," she trailed off, clearly unsure how to finish. He felt his eyes widen.

"A dream about Derek and…us?" he asked very carefully. It wasn't possible. He could feel the shock radiating from her and he didn't have to see his best friend's face to know her eyes were wide.

"How did you…know that?" she asked haltingly. He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to reason through it. Finally, he spoke again.

"I had the same dream too," he said quietly. He heard her footsteps and felt it as she paused in front of him. His arms carefully snaked out around her waist as he pulled her into his arms. Hers wound up along his back and she leaned her cheek against his chest.

"Did it hurt when you woke up too?" she mumbled, barely audible. He could feel her tense up as she awaited his response.

"Yeah," he said gently as he ran a hand through her long thick hair.

"Punk?" she asked to the dark. She untangled herself and, with her hands intertwined in his, walked to the bed. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah?" he said again, a nervousness to his voice that she hadn't heard before.

"Don't try anything okay?" Her request held more weight to them than anyone who might have heard the question. It was a question that held their future on the brink of change and he pulled back the covers and pulled her in next to him. She nestled into his arms and he leaned his cheek on the top of her head.

"Not tonight," he whispered back. She made a contented noise in the back of her throat and her muscles slacked as she fell asleep. He moved his lips to her forehead and he tightened his grip around her tiny frame. "But soon."

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**A/N: So I hope no one wants to kill me after this. I wanted to add a little twist to this story to make it something to, you know, remember. I left a little room for imagination for this and I'd really like to get reviews or PM's telling me how you want them to end up. Again, thank you so much for all the support. Much love!**


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